


The Last High

by Tarlan



Series: Dark Gift [5]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV), Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 2, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he waits to take the stage, Lestat looks back on the past and the children he has sired - and on two in particular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last High

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope_Bingo Round Two prompt - au: crossover

Lestat lounged back against the expensive leather seat, smiling without enthusiasm as the other members of his successful rock group argued over their upcoming concert. They had every right to be nervous and yet excited too as ticket sales had soared. There would be more than ten thousand mortals coming to hear them play at the open aired stadium later that evening. Lestat knew the numbers were but a tip of the iceberg with a hundred thousand more fans of his music spread across the world, hooked on the lyrics of his songs, which subtly revealed the known history of the hidden vampire race, along with some of the many secrets they had held through the long centuries. The power of their adoration thrummed through him, and never more so than when he performed on stage in front of those adoring fans, feeling their love and passion overwhelming his vampire senses.

Yet he felt so alone, like a whore performing for the salivating masses.

It had started out as an exciting escapade, with the throbbing sounds of rock music drawing him from the mausoleum he had slept in for so many years, leaving him with a rebellious urge to overturn the rules and reveal the vampire presence in this world. Yet, now he had fully immersed himself into the rock star culture, it all seemed rather jaded to him, apart from one aspect.

He thought of Queen Akasha, remembering the power of her blood flowing through his veins, and he felt strangely elated that he had been the one to raise the Queen of all vampires from her centuries of slumber. Ignoring the sounds around him, he recalled the perfection of her cold, marble skin, unblemished by time. His own flesh had changed by drinking from her, though to a far lesser degree, yet even that small amount of her blood had made him one of the most powerful of all the vampires. Perhaps more powerful than Marius, the oldest vampire known to him.

And Louis was one of the weakest, he thought sardonically.

Lestat's smile became mischievous as he thought of the threats he had already received from his own kind, with many of the older vampires believing it could bring only disaster upon them all. No doubt many of them would be hiding within the throng of adoring fans tonight, just as Marius had forewarned.

Let them come, he thought, wondering if they would be incensed enough to reveal their presence by attacking him in front of so many mortals.

Lestat pushed up from his seat, barely holding his power in check for even his band still believed that his vampire persona was just an act. His manager had his doubts though, but kept them to himself rather than risk losing the wealth he had gained from managing a successful rock group. Lestat could sense the tingle of fear though as his manager hovered on the edge of the truth, wanting to believe that it was all just an illusion, and yet instinctively knowing that it might not be. It hadn't stopped him from ushering in the _groupies_ Lestat selected from the hundreds swarming around him like moths to a flame.

Mostly, he took the little drink from them, just enough to strengthen their illusion of him as a vampire. Afterwards he returned them to the streets, dazed and yet elated by their personal experience with him. He made sure his manager saw a few of those fans so he never questioned the disappearance of others.

Lestat killed only a few of those seemingly adoring fans. Mostly those that Marius called _evil doers_ , guilty of malicious intent or acts towards other mortals as they emulated their latest _hero_ , or those sent by various hidden organizations to seek even greater truths from him.

Jesse had been different and he thought about the young mortal woman with the flame-red hair, wondering why he felt such an allurement to her when he had always preferred the companionship of males in the past. He sighed, knowing his thoughts had returned to Jesse purely because she eased the loneliness that pervaded him. Strangely, she reminded him of the children he had sired; children who remained distant from him, leaving him too alone in this modern world of fast cars and jet planes.

How many children had he sired in the hope of finding one who would be his immortal companion?

Gabrielle, Nicholas, Louis, Claudia... Vincent and then Christopher.

Of Gabrielle he knew nothing, having not seen or heard from her in centuries as she wandered the world in search of hedonistic pleasure and curiosity. She had been his mortal mother and he had given the Dark Gift to her, wanting to free her from her life of frustration, but she had left his side almost immediately to explore her new world. Secretly, he had hoped she would stay but then, she had always seemed happiest when alone so, in a sense, little had changed between them.

Nicholas and Claudia were gone forever, having met a true death.

Louis was a vampire in torment, caught between his love of all life and his need to feed in order to live. He had once tried surviving on the blood of animals but discovered quickly that it did not satisfy the increasing hunger, merely held it at bay.

In contrast, Lestat was a sociable person by nature. He could bear the loneliness of his existence only while in the dreamless sleep of the undead, needing the interaction with others, as an audience if not as companions during his waking hours. Mortals could provide some of that company but they soon wondered why he would not meet them during the daylight.

At least this rock star culture gave him the excuses he needed to shun the daytime.

Once more, he and Louis were apart, having differed in their accounts of the events surrounding Louis' rebirth as a vampire and the tragedy of Claudia's life and death. He knew Louis did not share his gift for reading minds except when making the kill and, therefore, had little understanding of his often strange choice of victim. Louis could tell the innocent from the guilty except by basic instinct until they were close to death, whereas Lestat was party to all of his victim's wrong doings and intended crimes against others long before he sank his teeth into their flesh and drained the blood from them.

Strangely, the only one of his children who had gained a similar gift of telepathy was the child he had turned on a whim for Vincent. His Christopher. Unfortunately, Christopher could not shut off his gift with the same ease, suffering the torment of mortal thoughts bombarding him constantly. For this reason Lestat knew they rarely remained in heavily populated cities for long, and even then chose neighborhoods where there were far fewer mortals. Yet staying for too long in a small town was also out of the question.

It did not matter that both Vincent and Christopher had a strong moral code - only feeding from those whose sadistic tendencies and immoral acts towards those weaker and more vulnerable left them ill-deserving of their mortal life. The climbing number of mysterious disappearances or strange accidents quickly drew the wrong kind of attention to them, increasing the chance of discovering - and true death.

Together, Vincent and Christopher had sired five others over the years that followed their receipt of the Dark Gift. The bonds that had held the seven together in mortal life had sustained them through more than a hundred years so far. Even Louis called them _The Magnificent Seven_ , after the name bestowed upon them when, as mortals, they had protected a small town that lay along the old stage coach route between New Orleans and San Francisco.

It was a ghost town now, having not survived when the railroad cut through further north, bypassing the town.

He smiled in remembrance of his children, and of their children. They had exasperated him at the time but he loved them all. In many ways he was envious of them, especially of Vincent and Christopher who were immortal companions in a way they never could have been in mortal life. He had seen and felt the depth of their love for each other, shining like a silver strand that linked them through eternity. In all the years since they were sired, he doubted they had spent more than a single day apart and Lestat knew that if either one of them should meet true death then the other would follow soon after.

For a moment he wondered where they were now, and if they would come if he called.

Lestat smiled again. Once he had tired of this rock star culture then perhaps he would seek them out. He would share Akasha's blood with both Vincent and Christopher, letting them drink from him to make them stronger than many of the far older and yet embittered vampires who might seek to destroy them out of envy for the perfection of their eternal bond.

"It's almost time!"

Lestat smiled close-mouthed at the group's drummer. Yes. It was time to face the music in more than one meaning. 

As he stepped out onto the stage, the crowd roared, and Lestat felt his vampire blood thrum with excitement for the risks he was taking. The chords of the opening number rose through the air, and Lestat began to sing, spilling more secrets into the night as the vampire world metaphorically held its collective breath.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by _The Last High_ by The Dandy Warhols.
> 
>  
> 
> _I am alone but adored_  
>  By a hundred thousand more  
> Then I said when you were the last  
> And I have known love like a whore  
> From at least ten thousand more  
> Then I swore when you were the last


End file.
